Background

Adhémar_de_Monteil_à_Antioche. 13th Century. Wikimedia.

Wimund’ s background is shrouded in mystery with even the chronicler William of Newburgh, a canon of Newburgh Priory and the author of Historia rerum Anglicarum (“History of English Affairs”), who had direct contact with Wimund and wrote a brief account of his life unable to give a clear picture.

William of Newburgh recounted that Wimund was “born in the most obscure spot in England”[1]. From the information that is given Wimund was probably born in Cumbria possibly near the area of Furness.

Wimund himself believed that he was the heir of the Earls of Moray in Scotland although at the time most of his contemporaries viewed this claim as spurious. Recently a re-examination of the evidence has led some historian to give credence to Wimund’s assertion. Many have supposed that Wimund was referring to Angus of Moray, the son of Lulach, King of Scotland, who was killed in 1130 but Richard Oram in his book ‘Domination and Lordship: Scotland 1070 – 1230’ presents the theory that it was in fact William, Earl of Moray and son of Duncan II, who was in actual fact the father of Wimund.

William himself spent some time in Allerdale with his mother’s family after the murder of his father in 1094. Allerdale is also located in Cumbria, so it is not out of the realms of possibility that William could have met Wimund’s mother and had a child by her.

If Wimund was the illegitimate son of William of Moray and so was the grandson of Duncan II of Scotland then it would explain why Wimund believed he had a claim to the crown of Scotland and why he chose to go down the path he did.

Education

Wimund was educated at Furness Abbey. The abbey was founded by the future Stephen I of England in 1127. Although the architecture lacked the grandeur of some of the older and more established religious houses the “isolation of Furness increased rather than checked a power possessed by few religious houses in the north; and the abbot ruled vast territories with feudal independence and social advantage”[2].

Furness Abbey. Image source Wikipedia.

It was said that due to Wimund penmanship that he was assigned the task of transcribing old writings in monasteries. Wimund had proved that he was a good scholar, intelligent and astute. He was also ambitious and being fortunate enough to belong to an important religious centre must have made him hungry for advancement and power.

Bishop elect

Walters Manuscript W.163, fol. 109r

In 1134 Olaf I, King of the Isles (which included the Isle of Man, the Hebrides and the Islands of the Firth of Clyde) requested that Furness Abbey should found a sister abbey on the Isle of Man. Wimund was a member of the party that was sent to help establish and manage the Abbey of Rushden. Wimund made a good first impression. He was tall and athletic with a “sweetness of face” and “three admirable requisites – an ardent temper, a retentive memory and competent eloquence”[3]. Therefore it was only natural that when the abbey was granted the right to elect a bishop during the time of Thurstan, Archbishop of York, Wimund was chosen. He was given the title of ‘Bishop of the Isles’ or ‘Bishop of Sodor’ and was described as the bishop of sancta ecclesia de Schith, ‘Bishop of the Holy Church of Skye’.

On the warpath

At some point in the late 1140s, probably after the death of William of Moray, Wimund decided to fight for what he believed was rightfully his.

William of Newburgh’s disapproval of Wimund’s actions rings out loud and clear as he writes “[n]ot content with the dignity of his episcopal offices, he next anticipated in his mind how he might accomplish great and wonderful things; for he possessed a haughty speaking mouth with the proudest heart”[4].

Medieval royal family tree. Image source: Harley 7353

Although most historians agree that Wimund began to terrorise Scotland to avenge himself on David whom he believed had unfairly deprived him of his inheritance, there also seemed to be another grievance which involved Gille Aldan, the Bishop of Whithorn. Some researchers have merged the two conflicts but others see them as separate issues[5].

The first, Wimund’s paternal inheritance is well-documented. At the time of William’s death his legitimate heir was not yet ten years of age and so was not able to take on his father’s responsibilities and role. William as well as being the Earl of Moray had possessed the areas of Skipton and Craven in Yorkshire and so David had not only lost a key ally but also a strategic foothold in northern England. This foothold had been vital component in David’s expansion plans as well as his desire to pressurise and dominate the already weakened King Stephen. Wimund obvious believed that he was entitled to a share of his father’s lands and saw David as an obstacle. He may have also seen David as a usurper. If Wimund was the son of William then he could claim the eldest son of Malcolm III as his ancestor which would mean he did in fact have a stronger claim to the throne of Scotland than David who was descended through the line of Malcolm’s youngest son.

The second conflict was with Gille Aldan. Aldan was made the first bishop of the restored bishopric of Whithorn. The appointment was made with the approval of Pope Honorius III. The lands of Whithorn were subject to the Bishops of the Isles and so it could have been that Wimund was trying to prevent the loss of lands belonging to Rushden Abbey.

Whatever the reasons behind his subsequent actions, Wimund managed to raise a large army from the male population of the Isle of Man. His army were either convinced by Wimund’s arguments or money to follow him into battle.

A seafaring warlord

Image source: Histoire de pirates et corsaires 1846.

William of Newburgh describes how Wimund came by boat and descended on Scotland embarking on a “mad career” of pillage, rapine and slaughter disturbing “the tranquillity of a nation happy and contented under the government of a virtuous prince”[6].

Standing a head and shoulder taller than his men, he must have been an imposing figure as he sailed around the islands of Scotland striking fear into the hearts of the islanders.

David sent royal troops to deal with Wimund’s threat but Wimund had the upper hand. His army would either dissolve into the forests or take to the sea and just wait until the troops had left. They would then return to carry on attacking and terrorising the local villagers.

Even in an age which was inured to hardship, violence and warfare, being attacked in this manner by a man of god and their own bishop turned seafaring pirate and warlord “this fisher of men turned hunter of men”[7] must have been viewed as a strange and disturbing turn of events.

Bishop versus Bishop

It is recorded that an unknown bishop, probably Gille Aldan, refused to pay the levy demanded by Wimund. It is said that the bishop swore that he “never will establish a precedent for one bishop paying tribute to another”[8]. Finally the bishop unable to take any more provocation and threats from Wimund raised his own army and met Wimund on the battlefield.

Tower Manuscript 1.33. Image source: Royal Armouries

Despite probably being less skilled in the art of warfare and with less experienced men, the bishop threw the first hatchet and managed miraculously to strike Wimund, wounding him severely. Somehow Wimund managed to escape but seeing their leader felled, the rest of his men turned tail and fled.

Rapprochement

Even being seriously injured did not put a stop to Wimund. Somehow he managed regroup his men and continue to be a thorn in David’s side.

Eventually David realised that Wimund was too strong and too dangerous to be stopped by force and decided that a new approach was needed. David who had been given control of the whole of Cumberland and Westmoreland by Stephen in 1136, granted Wimund the lands and monastery of Furness as a symbol of reconciliation.

The reckoning

Although both David and Wimund might have been satisfied with the arrangement, the people of Furness and the surrounding lands which were now under the control of Wimund were less than pleased.

Wimund must have infuriated them with his arrogance and manner and it is highly likely that Wimund treatment of them must have both harsh, ruthless and contemptuous because after a while, they could no longer stomach his presence and plotted to overthrow him.

The people with the consent of their nobles decided to teach their errant bishop a lesson he would never forget. They laid a trap. Somehow they managed to isolate Wimund from his men whilst he was following behind a large party of entertainers. They grabbed him, kidnapped him and bound him. They then proceeded to castrate him making “him a eunuch for the sake of the kingdom of Scotland, not for that of heaven” and “as both eyes were wicked, deprived him of both”[9].

A repentant retirement!

Wimund was taken and imprisoned in the castle of Roxburgh. He was later pardoned and retired to the Abbey of Byland in Yorkshire.

It was here that William of Newburgh, whose abbey was only two miles from Byland, came into contact with the notorious bishop.

William stated that despite Wimund’s severe mutilation, his spirit was neither dampened nor chastened. He never expressed regret for any of his actions or the harm that he had caused. Instead the complete opposite, he joked that he had never been beaten in battle except by a silly bishop and boasted of his deeds declaring that if he only had “the eye of a sparrow his enemies should have little occasion to rejoice at what they had done to him”[10].

Hardly the traditional image of a humble man of god!

A larger than life figure

Was Wimund a fraud and “a flagitious impostor”[11]? It is so hard to tell with the limited information available. Even William who had direct contact with Wimund seemed unable to come to a firm conclusion. The one thing that does suggest that there was some validity to Wimund’s claim is that despite all his terrible actions and the threats he had issued against the king of Scotland, David never exacted the ultimate revenge by executing his adversary. Despite being cruel, brutal and merciless, Wimund must have had a magnetic personality and an unquenchable thirst for life. In some ways he reminds me of a medieval, real-life Long John Silver and he was unique in being the one and only ‘Bishop-Pirate’.

Evil Clowns

Coulrophobia – the fear of clowns. From fictional phantoms such as Stephen King’s Pennywise to serial killer John Wayne Gacy’s alter-ego Pogo the Clown, and even the current trend for ‘killer clowns’ sweeping the US and UK, clowns have developed a somewhat sinister reputation of late. Their painted faces and over-sized clothes intended to convey innocent humour can, to some people, appear both uncanny and disturbing. But evil killer clowns are not an entirely modern phenomenon – if the stories about Thomas Skelton, the last jester of Muncaster Castle – are to be believed. Thomas Skelton is thought by some to be the original Tom Fool from Shakespeare’s King Lear, but his ‘Last Will and Testament’ may hint at a much darker side to this comedian.

Who was Thomas Skelton?

Thomas Skelton is famous for being the last jester of Muncaster Castle, a stately pile near the village of Ravenglass, Cumbria, in the north-west of England. We know this because he is the named subject of a famous full length portrait that hangs in the castle. The picture depicts a ruddy-faced middle-aged man, dressed in jester’s motley, holding a staff of office in one hand, and a document written in doggerel, attested to be his will, hangs beside him.

That a portrait was painted of a family retainer must indicate that he was a beloved family servant. His attire is masterfully comic – his patchwork robe, staff of office and scroll and mock privy seal all act to parody the pompous badges of office of high officialdom, and rather than listing his titles and achievements the scroll offers up what purports to be Tom Fools last will and testament. He even mocks the noble gallant, with the name of his lady pinned into his hatband, aping the fashions of the day, whilst wearing his jesters motley.

Interestingly, the portrait at Muncaster Castle isn’t the only portrait of Tom Skelton. EW Ives in his article for the Shakespeare Survey [1] focuses his research on a second portrait, purchased by the Shakespeare Society in 1957 from the Haigh Hall Collection of the Earls of Crawford and Balcarres. It is by examining this portrait and the text of the will, that EW Ives has attempted to pin-point exactly when and where Tom Fool lived.

Dating Tom Fool

Thomas Skelton’s Will

Ives uses references to well-known local individuals named in the will, cross checked with burial records from Wigan, to build a picture of the movements and the dates for Tom Skelton. He proposes that although Tom Skelton was originally the jester at Muncaster Castle, upon the death of Lord Pennington, Tom accompanied the young heir when he was sent to live with his relatives, the Bradshaugh’s, at Haigh Hall in Wigan. At Haigh Hall, sometime between 1659 – 1665, a portrait of Tom was painted. Sir Roger Bradshaw’s wife was a Pennington, and may have known Tom Fool as a child. Ives suggests that when the heir reached his majority and wished to return to Muncaster, he wanted to take the portrait of the much-loved jester with him. As Tom Fool had been a well-loved family servant, at both Muncaster castle and Haigh Hall, a copy of the portrait was commissioned to remain at Haigh Hall (possibly completed in the 1680’s) while the original returned with the heir to Muncaster. Ives states that there is no evidence that Skelton returned to Muncaster after 1659, while the young heir was away, so it would seem likely Tom died at Haigh Hall [2].

The current incumbent of Muncaster Castle, Peter Frost-Pennington, confirms that evidence for Thomas Skelton’s life in the historical record is hard to find. He was, after all, just a servant, even if he was one esteemed enough to have his likeness captured in oils. Frost-Pennington keeps his margins wide quoting ‘1600 give or take 50 years’ [3], a possible references to him comes from a letter dating to the reign of Henry VIII, while another could put him as far back as the late fifteenth century. However if the research by EW Ives is correct, then unfortunately Tom Skelton could not be the model for Shakespeare’s Tom Fool in King Lear which dates from about 1605/6.

“King Lear and the Fool in the Storm” by William Dyce (1806–1864) (c) National Galleries of Scotland; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

A Killer Sense of Humour

There were two mains types of fool or jester, the natural fool – one with a physical or intellectual disability; and the artificial fool – an entertainer or comedian. Fools and jesters were often part of a royal court or noble family and by virtue of their position could often speak harsh truths to their ‘betters’ in the guise of drollery. Shakespeare often uses the fool as the voice of common sense and wisdom, in Twelfth Night the jester is remarked to be ‘wise enough to play the fool’ [4]It is not clear from the scant historical record, or the portrait, which kind of fool Tom Skelton was, but whether natural or artificial, some of his favourite antics have come down to us.

Mr Claypole from Children’s TV Series Rent-a-ghost.

Like many fools and jesters, Tom was a valued and trusted servant of the Pennington family, entertaining them with a mixture of practical jokes and wit. He is famed for such clownish antics as cutting off a branch while he sat upon it; greasing up banisters on the staircase to annoy guests, then when asked who was responsible, quipped that he thought ‘everyone had a hand in it’.

However things take a more sinister turn in the anecdotes relating to Tom Skelton reported in ‘The Remains of John Briggs a compilation of tales and essays’ published in the Westmorland Gazette and Lonsdale Magazine in 1825.

Briggs relates what purports to be oral tradition surrounding a murder committed by Thomas Skelton at the behest of one Sir Ferdinand Hoddleston, of Millum Castle. It all began when Helwise, the lovely daughter of Sir Alan Pennington of Muncaster Castle, had disguised herself as a shepherdess and attended the May Day festivities in order to meet her secret lover, Richard the Carpenter. Wild Will of Whitbeck, a local ruffian, had fancied his chances but was rejected by Helwise. To to get his revenge on the lovers he spilled the beans to Sir Ferdinand (yet another wannabe suitor for Helwise).

May Day by William Collins, Wikimedia.

Angered at losing out to a humble carpenter, Sir Ferdinand went to Muncaster Castle bent on informing Sir Alan Pennington of his daughter’s low connection. However as chance would have it, first he met with Tom Fool, aka Thomas Skelton, and had the following conversation in which Tom recounted a nasty trick he played on ‘Lord Lucy’s Footman’. This seems to have given Sir Ferdinand an idea of Tom’s homicidal potential…

“‘he asked me’ said Tom, ‘if the river was passable; and I told him it was for nine of our family had just gone over. – They were geese’ whispered Tom; ‘but I did not tell him that.-the fool set into the river, and would have drowned, I believe, if I had not helped him out'”.

Briggs goes on to recount that Tom also had a personal grudge against Dick the Carpenter –

“‘[..]I put those three shillings which you gave me into a hole, and I found them weezend everytime I went to look at them; and now they are only three silver pennies. I have just found it out that Dick has weezend them.’ ‘Kill him Tom, with his own axe, when he is asleep sometime – and I’ll see that thou takest no harm for it.’ Replied Sir Ferdinand. ‘He deserves it, and I’ll do it,’ said Tom. [..] And the next day while the unsuspecting carpenter was taking an after dinner nap, and dreaming probably of the incomparable beauties of his adorable Helwise, Tom entered the shed, and with one blow of the axe severed the carpenters head from his body. ‘There,’ said Tom to the servants,’I have hid Dick’s head under a heap of shavings; and he will not find that so easily, when he awakes, as he did my shillings.'”

Detail of the beheading of Holofernes, by Caravaggio.

The conclusion of this unhappy tale was that heartbroken Helwise entered a nunnery, while the vengeful Sir Ferdinand met a bloody death fighting the Earl of Richmond (Henry Tudor) at Bosworth Field [5]. Which frankly, seems to place this tale much to early to be attributed to the seventeenth century Tom Skelton.

Other tales claim that Tom Fool would sit under a chestnut tree outside Muncaster Castle, watching travelers go past. Should any traveler ask him for directions, they were at risk of being misdirected to dangerous quicksands near the River Esk [6]. May people consider that his will makes oblique reference to this murderous pass-time.

‘But let me not be carry’d o’er the brigg,Lest fallin I in Duggas River ligg;’ [9]

Some tales even have Tom recovering the bodies, decapitating them and burying them under tree trunks.

Death from the Medieval Scapini Tarot. Image from SheWalksSoftly website.

All of this would seem to paint a picture of an evil and conscienceless individual. But is there more to this than meets the eye? The north-west of England was for hundreds of years,a remote and dangerous place. Blood feuds, rough justice and robbery with violence were part and parcel of everyday life. Could these local folk tales and stories have elided themselves onto half remembered anecdotes of the jolly japes and crude practical jokes of Thomas Skelton? In the Middle Ages there was a tradition in the Tarot of showing death in the garb of the Fool, death having the last laugh (of course) and some traditions also associate the Fool with the trickster and with vice [7&8]. Could these earlier darker traditions, coupled with bloody local legends have become associated with the portrait of Tom Skelton. Once the immediate family who knew him died out, the portrait, with its slightly menacing air could easily have attracted macabre tales in a similar way that some Screaming Skull legends may have developed.

The punchline…

Tom Skelton was the last jester of Muncaster Castle, and probably of Haigh Hall as well. Jesters fell out of fashion with the restoration of Charles II to the throne (and I can’t imagine the puritans would have had much use for Jesters either!) During his lifetime Skelton appears to have been a much valued family retainer, so much so that not one but two portraits were commissioned of him. Even now, his legend as an entertainer has been revived, and Muncaster Castle hosts an annual Jester Competition in honour of Tom Skelton.

But was Tom Skelton the original Tom Fool from Shakespeare’s King Lear? Well probably not, the dating evidence seems to be against it. And more pressingly, was Skelton an evil killer clown? His troubled spirit is said to haunt Muncaster Castle to this day – his heavy tread and the sound of a body (the unfortunate carpenter?) being dragged up the stairs have been reported by several witnesses…is he doomed to walk the earth for eternity re-living his heinous crimes? On that, I will leave you to make up your own mind.

If you want to view the portrait of Thomas Skelton you can visit Muncaster Castle, they even offer paranormal ghost tours so you might even get to meet him….

Just want to get this straight here, I’m NOT the hag mentioned in the title (I’ve got a few more years before that happens yet!) ;0)

I want to present to you, a very strange incident that happened to me a couple of years ago. I’m still not quite sure what to make of it myself.

Anyone who knows me, knows that one of my greatest passions in life is hiking. Me and my hiking buddy, Bonnie, regularly do long distance treks in the UK: West Highland Way, Hadrian’s Wall path, Wainwright’s Coat to Coast….or should that be Wainwright’s Coast to GHOST……

It was in the spring of 2010 that Bonnie and I set out on the 200 mile trek across Britain, from St Bee’s in Cumbria to Robin Hoods Bay in Yorkshire. We set out when the snow was thick on the ground, wading waist deep through snow at The Honister pass high in the Lake district; we passed through thick fog in the Pennines and we baked on the wide open Edges and Moors of Yorkshire.

Old map from Cumbria History website

It was at Kirby Stephen, about half way along the route, that I had possibly the most frightening paranormal(?) experience I have ever know…we had walked the 20 or so miles from Shap to Kirby Stephen that day, and below are extracts from my journal which I kept at the time:

“We set off under lowering skies and struck out across a bleak landscape as we left Shap, passing by Chemical Works and Quarries and crossing our first big motorway. Eventually we reached the moorlands and open fells. We were soon baffled by our first Moorland and took a few unintended detours!

Looking back across the moors we could see Lakeland in the distance, it is sad that there is nothing coming up quite so dramatic, but not so sad to be leaving behind the steepest inclines and the snow and ice.

More fells and moors lay ahead of us, dun coloured and featureless under the grey skies – bleak but beautiful. We passed the lovely Smardale Bridge and the Grand aqueduct that spans the valley, before finally reaching Kirby Stephen our destination for the day.

We arrived at Kirby Stephen, with aching feet, by 4PM. The hostel is an old converted Methodist chapel. We ate dinner in the congregational Hall. It is very cold and slightly creepy here – still we have an en-suite twin room for only £18 each – not to be sniffed at on this trip! Pennines and Swaledale Tomorrow!!”

I should add here, that the hostel was beautiful – the congregational hall was all dark wood, with old Pews set up for the dining area, stained glass windows and a carved wooden balcony at one end, and underneath the balcony the kitchen area. I seem to recall, that there were carved wooden angels tucked away in dark corners of the chapel, ready to catch you unaware! It was a remarkable place to spend the night, and the hostel warden was very welcoming and gave us the Warden’s apartment to stay in (she did not live-in at the hostel – later I would wonder why).

The following day, i continued my journal:

“Falling asleep exhausted last night, listening to the rain beating on the windows, I had begun to wonder if the hostel was haunted. It had been sort of slowly giving me the creeps all evening. The first thing that struck a jarring note was the old man. There were only a few people staying in the hostel – and we know most of them because they are on the Coast to Coast route too. But an old man was sitting in the shadows under the balcony last night, reading. I greeted him, he nodded. I was distracted for a moment, when I looked back he was gone, but he hadn’t passed me by and I couldn’t see any other exits.

The warden’s rooms were in a separate part of the building from the dorms were everyone else was. Apart from two girls we had met on the previous day’s hike who had the room down the hall, we were in a secluded part of the building away from the few other guests.

Last night I had the most terrifying dreams I have ever had, and some part of the experience occurred when I was awake – I am sure.

The first part was that I felt that there was an evil presence in the en-suite (if it hadn’t been so scary I would have laughed), I went to see what it was. I felt something pulling at my t-shirt, I ordered it to stop and a voice said quite clearly “Oh he usually brings a rose, and lays it across your teeth” wierd!!

I then heard a loud banging like someone trying to gain access to the hostel and just as a voice said “Whatever you do, don’t let her in, she mustn’t come in” I woke myself up – I was absolutely bricking it – it felt like there was a really negative energy filling the room and the atmosphere was really oppressive.

I felt like I didn’t want to move a muscle and I didn’t try, I was convinced someone or something was trying to get in the room. I said to Bonnie “Bonnie, lock the door!” because there was no way I was getting out of bed to do it. I turned to look over to Bonnie’s bed on the other side of the room, I could hear her snoring and she was clearly deeply asleep. As I looked over to her perhaps the most terrifying thing of all happened – she spoke – in a voice like tombstones. She said: “There is something in here with us.” I spent the rest of the night hiding under the duvet!’

No one else heard any kind of commotion during the night, and Bonnie had no recollection of speaking in her sleep although she did admit to having nightmares of her own that night.

So was the hostel haunted and where does the Old Hag come in to the story?

Well, for me, for a long while the jury was out. There were logical explanations possible, after all, there was no evidence the old man was a ghost and he might have exited the congregational hall via an unseen exit. The warden did not live in most likely because she was local, rather than because she was afraid of any supernatural phenomenon. My dream was so vivid that I probably called out in my sleep before waking up and perhaps this triggered Bonnie’s doom-laden pronouncement. In addition to this, I haven’t found any other references to this hostel being haunted or strange things happening in it.

At the same time…it was a really intense experience and it felt REAL.

It was then that a third option presented itself. This came via a comment from AngryScholar who is a folklorist (and horror aficionado) and has an excellent blog relating to these topics. In response to a recent post by Miss Jessel he recommended a book on the old Hag tradition: ‘The Terror that Comes in the Night’ by David J Hufford, published by the American Folklore Society. Being a compulsive purchaser of books I immediately ordered a copy and devoured it in a very short time.

In short, the Old Hag is a tradition common to Newfoundland, and relates to a kind of psychical attack where the victim awakes from sleep feeling either some kind of paralysis or that a heavy weight is pressing down on them preventing movement. They feel intense fear and the phenomenon is often accompanied by the sound of footsteps approaching or the feeling of a malign presence which sometimes has a visual manifestation.

Those familiar with the traditions also often know of methods to dispel the attack or turn it against the instigator of the experience. Huffords excellent study takes the phenomenon outside of Newfoundland area to disprove the cultural source hypothesis – ie if you know about the custom you may have this kind of experience – his work showed that the experience was cross-cultural and did not depend on prior knowledge of the tradition.

Hufford interviewed a large number of people who had had similar experiences but who had no knowledge of the tradition. In conducting his study he found a number of common features of the experience some of which match the experience that I had. He estimated that the phenomenon is so common that up to 15% of the population could have had a similar experience but that their willingness to disclose or withhold information relating to it can be determined by the culture they come from – in other words will they be met with ridicule or thought to be suffering from some kind of mental illness?

He considered that some of the experience related to the hypnagogic or hypnapompic state of sleep, hypnagogic is the “period immediately preceeding sleep” while “the time from the termination of measurable sleep to genuine wakefulness is called the ‘hypnopompic’ period” (1) and notes that these phases of sleep were at the time of his writing, relatively unexplored.

After extensive examination of case studies Hufford applied the term ‘Sleep paralysis with hypnagogic hallucinations’ as a close approximation of the Old Hag phenomenon.

This is a very brief outline of Hufford’s very detailed study, but I think there were some similarities between what I experienced and some of the cases he examined….and who knows – strange things can occur in that twilight state that is not quite sleep and not quite wakefulness. A place, even in our modern technological world, where normal rules of reality do not apply and where the hag may still walk by night….

References

Hufford J David, The Terror that Comes in the Night, 1982, University of Pennsylvania Press.